


Fuck Thyself

by skai6 (Biosahar)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Consensual Sex, Dirty Talk, Finger Sucking, Flirting, Hand & Finger Kink, Idiots in Love, Intense Orgasm, Jaskier and Dandelion flirt and it ends well for both of them, Light Choking, M/M, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:55:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28198005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biosahar/pseuds/skai6
Summary: It all started with a prompt on tumblr:Jaskier getting mesmerised by Dandelion’s fingers on his lute.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier/Dandelion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have never thought I'd be so invested in bard x bard content until a certain friend changed my mind.
> 
> Now, I'm in too deep.
> 
> Enjoy!

He hadn’t liked him, at first.

The sight of him burned his eyes, the sound of him pained his ears, the very existence of Dandelion left Jaskier distraught and aching for the end of the strange circumstances that had enabled their coexistence within the same time and space. 

A miracle truly. Jaskier prefers to call it a _pain in the arse_.

Then it changed, slowly, gradually, steadily. He could not quite pinpoint a certain time or a certain moment. The flow of its occurrence was something to compare to the water of a riverstream. By the time you’d caught a glance of it, chances are it has already fallen into the ocean.

Jaskier has fallen into the ocean that were Dandelion’s eyes.

And curse his cheesiness. _Romanticism, my arse._ He was not about to spout rhymes at himself. Wouldn’t it be considered arse-kissing? To which extent is one allowed to self-indulge without it stepping into narcissism? Does it count if both subjects, albeit alike, appear physically different?

Does it count that Dandelion’s fingers are so _, so_ distracting? 

“Play me a tune,” he had told him earlier, “A merry one for I have had enough tragedies for one day.”

Jaskier had been tuning his lute for the past hour, searching to distract himself from the unfortunate lack of inspiration that befell him when Dandelion came sprawling dramatically onto his mattress.

“I don’t recall signing up to become your personal jester,” Jaskier shot back mockingly, “Play it yourself.”

Dandelion’s eyes sparked and he sat upwards in an instant.

“Wonderful idea! I have just the song - hand over your lute, Jaskier.”

To which Jaskier’s eyebrow quirked.

“Well go fetch your ow - _hey_!”

In a matter of seconds, the lute left his hold into Dandelion’s. Under his featherly hat, his soft golden curls fell over his forehead and cheeks, caressing every inch of exposed skin. Jaskier’s urge to run his fingers across them was strong and he blamed it on the liquor he had consumed earlier at the inn.

Then Dandelion begun his singing, and Jaskier was not surprised to find him extremely skillful, if not annoyingly so. He was _him,_ after all. A compliment, if anything. Self-delivered but Jaskier would take what he could get. And yet something, _something_ about Dandelion was different.

 _Otherworldly_ , his inner poet corrected. He let his eyes wander, until they fell on his fingers.

Thin, long, soft. The stereotypical artist’s hands. Delicate and precise. Gentle and moving. Teasing and taunting. 

He hadn’t noticed he was holding his breath until it came cascading out of him in a strenuously breathy sigh. Dandelion’s lips silenced his humming to lift his head up towards him. The _bastard_ was smirking.

“Have I tugged at your heartstrings?”

“Out of irritation? Absolutely.”

Dandelion laughed. And gods above, since when has it been so delightful, so pleasing to the ear, to hear him laugh?

“My lute, Dandelion,” he spoke sternly, though his voice gave out a hint of softness, “ _Now_.”

“And if not?” taunted the other, wearing a gratified grin.

“Gods forbid, I will smash it over your head myself.”

Another laugh. Another tugged heartstring - _out of irritation, surely!_

As he leaned over to reach out for the lute, Dandelion pulled it away from reach. They battled back and forth like children at a sleepover, until Jaskier triumphantly retrieved the instrument at the expense of Dandelion’s body pinned underneath his own.

The hat flew to the edge of the bed to disappear beyond it, leaving Dandelion’s curls to fall to each side of his face, exposing a sharp jawline, a delicate neck, and rosy lips and cheeks flushed from their light struggling. He was grinning like a fool.

“Now _what_ , buttercup?”

And the urge came to surface once more. This time, stronger than ever. But Jaskier wouldn’t, couldn’t, not when the other was -

“Are you going to lean down like a gentleman or shall I pull you down like a whore?”

\- _maybe thinking the_ _same_?

Oh, gods.

_Oh, gods._

Jaskier leaned halfway down when the long, delicate fingers came seizing his hair in a secure grip and forcing him under.

And Jaskier might have as well _moaned_ the second their lips collided. The taste of him was something he should have expected, but he _hasn’t._ This was all new, all foreign, all _arousing_. 

The lute in one hand, the bedsheets in the other, Jaskier tilted his head to meet the pace of his deprived counterpart. Soft, passionate pecks met long, ardent kisses. His heartstrings were pulled oh so beautifully when Dandelion’s palm came spreading across his cheek, fingertips nudging the edge of his ear sending the back of his hair standing and his cock throbbing in need. 

That was when he knew he was done for.

Dandelion pulled away from him with a string of longing Jaskier found hard to break. His eyes captured his, half-lidded and dark blue with lust. The bastard smirked _again,_ but this time not out of triumph.

“Why, aren’t I a delightful kisser?”

To which Jaskier’s dignity collapsed, and he came whispering against his lips.

“We both know that I delight in more than _just_ kissing, darling.”

Dandelion purred in response and shifted his hips tentatively, lacing one of his legs around Jaskier’s back, a motion that led Jaskier to feel the outline of his bulge press flush against his, erect and ready.

“Desperate, are we?”

Under him, Dandelion looked far too indulged.

“Desperate for you to get over your blushing maiden act so that you could finally _take me_.”

 _Fuck thyself,_ whispered his conscience sarcastically back at him.

And gods forbid, Jaskier was more than willing.


	2. Chapter 2

He wasn’t tense, or anxious, or frightened. He needn’t be, not when another version of himself was hovering over him with the promise of a good time – and _good_ would be an understatement knowing what he himself was capable of. Dandelion was delighted to be under, and it was about _damn_ time. He had taken many over the course of his life. It was his turn to be taken for a change, and who else a better candidate than _himself_?

God, the things he could _do_.

“Oh, that _face,_ ” Jaskier purred on top of him, suddenly so sure of himself, so smug, “Shameless Dandelion. That’s the face I pull when I’m practically _begging_ for it.”

Dandelion’s stomach fluttered at the belittling. This was a game long lost, when the other knew _exactly_ how to play him. Every turn-on, every kink, every sensitive spot.

He could moan at the mere thought of how _ruined_ he could be made for everyone else after this.

But Dandelion knew better than to lay there and have his mind blown. Jaskier was just as vulnerable, as exposed. A trail of a warm tongue along the outer shell of his ear and he would be sent squirming. Dandelion knew his weakness, he knew it all, and he was unwilling to let the chance where he could get the other at his mercy pass so idly.

He laced his arms around Jaskier’s shoulders to remain flush against him, and with a pull, brought their bodies to shuffle to the side. Dandelion rose on top of him, palms spread over his chest, hips on hips, heat flooding to and fro.

“Have I always been so talkative in bed?” Dandelion purred, fingers fiddling with the buttons of his doublet, “Or are you just _so_ thrilled to be finally getting my attention?”

“How can I not be?” said Jaskier with breathtaking eagerness, “With those cornflower eyes and those sunshine curls, anyone would be over the moon just having you glance over their side of the room. Whilst you are here, straddling _me_ so prettily.”

“Are you calling me _pretty_?”

“Darling I’m calling you heavenly _,_ godly, the world’s most beautiful – _Oh!_ ”

With the grind of his hips, Dandelion’s bulge came grazing against something hard and throbbing, feeling it pulsate under layers of clothing, unbound by the thickness of the fabric. And he loved it. He loved being the reason behind the luscious moan that slipped Jaskier’s tongue as a result, behind the slight curving of his back off the mattress as he felt it, behind the awareness dawning on him that his was the state of someone _weak_ and _wanting_.

It never befell Dandelion, not until this moment, that he reveled in the thought of exposing Jaskier in his entirety.

It took him a second to appreciate the sight before Jaskier’s hands came dipping into his hair, fingers twirling around his curls, soft, gentle, tousled, and he _pulled._ And Dandelion had never obeyed so fast in his entire life – for gods forbid, he was the opposite of obedient – but now he was following the motion eagerly, greedily, desperate to catch the lips that came melting against his own.

He tasted of sweet wine and forbidden lust, a mixture that sent Dandelion’s head into a daze. He thought he knew himself inside out, and oh was he _terribly_ wrong.

Long fingers came brushing the length of Dandelion’s clothed cock, fingertips dipping under the hem of his chemise, grazing the skin underneath and rising along his sensitive side. The shudder cascaded down his spine like a waterfall.

“ _Gods_ , your fingers.”

“Gods, your everything.”

Dandelion had to suppress an urgent moan when a thumb came tickling the edge of his nipple, his cock throbbing in the aftermath. He was seized by the sudden need to wipe the resulting grin off the other’s face, and began working, no – _tearing_ Jaskier’s breeches open.

“Easy, love.” The fingers previously clutched in his hair softly loosened to come brushing the side of his jaw, the stubble on his chin, then landing on the lip that had been hanging open the whole time, expectant. “You wouldn’t want to rile me up beyond compare. We both know how that ends.”

“Oh, I _know_ ,” he said steadfastly, “It ends with you begging for a release you will never be getting. Just because you’re taking _me_ doesn’t mean I don’t get to tease you beyond compare.”

Dandelion’s lips curved into a side smirk and he slowly, tentatively, closed them around Jaskier’s thumb. He felt him shudder underneath and when he glanced up, he captured bright blue hues gazing back at him with profound desire. Dandelion knew _desire_ did not suit every commoner, but Jaskier wore it like a king wears his crown, with pride and a hint of control.

_And gods it suited him._

His tongue twirled around the soft pad of his thumb, grazing the side of it before taking it in entirely. Their eyes remained locked on each other, until Jaskier’s gaze gave in and followed the bobbing motion of his head. Each time Dandelion reached the bottom of his thumb to suck on the sensitive flesh connecting to his forefinger, he would enjoy the sight of his eyelashes falling hooded with gripping want.

Eventually, Jaskier grew impatient and peeled his digit out of Dandelion’s flush lips, bringing it to his own and dragging his tongue over it, licking it clean.

And accidentally, unintentionally, Dandelion moaned. _Aloud_.

“Oh love, oh dear, oh sweetheart,” Jaskier’s tone came fluttering out of him with a hint of amusement. He cupped Dandelion’s face and pecked the corner of his lips. “Am I making you wait too long, leaving you wanting? Want me to kiss you harder, rougher? Want me to make every inch of your gorgeous body tremble with the sweetness of the thrill? The things I could do to you, _oh_ , a brothel whore would blush at the mere mention of it all.”

Dandelion’s cock pulsed at the thought. “ _Gods_.”

“Trust me, dear.” Jaskier placed a soft peck on his bottom lip, whispering. “The gods have nothing on what I’m about to do to you.”

Dandelion might have as well been swept off his feet, _literally_. His balance was lost, his back hit the mattress, and Jaskier regained the upper hand once more. His mouth parted open to utter a snarky remark or two, to ease the tension until he could reclaim his dominance, but Jaskier was having none of it. He captured his lips then and there, worked him open with his tongue, and made a moaning mess out of him when the breeches came undone and his hand came grazing the edges of his entrance.

“What is it, darling? Have something to say?”

Dandelion’s teeth sank into his bottom lip in an attempt to hold back a whimper when a cold finger slipped inside him. It was oiled and ready, and Dandelion was utterly confused as to _how_ and _when_ he had found the vial let alone spread its content over his hand. When he looked up, it was already being placed on the night stand and Dandelion knew he was done for.

“You look gorgeous, honey,” said Jaskier, his breath heavy against his ear, “Now, see, I know what you desperately want right now. And we both know what you _must_ do to get it.”

Then Jaskier trailed the tip of his tongue over the edge of his ear.

“ _Go on_ ,” he purred, “Beg for it.”

Dandelion moaned, voice high-pitched and sultry and the echo of it must have sparked something in Jaskier, whose delicate fingers began working him open in slow, sensual thrusts. Tender kisses were laid on his earlobe, the crook of his neck, and teeth dipped lower to graze the sensitive skin of his collarbone.

And Dandelion was losing his mind.

“Gorgeous,” purred Jaskier, “So beautiful. So perfect. So _slutty_. All for _me_.”

“ _Gods_ –“ he cried, “Please. _Please_ , I beg you. Fuck me, Jaskier. Fuck me _now_.”

“Oh, darling,” he grinned, content, prideful, “ _Gladly_.”

The slender fingers left him void and aching. The warmth of his tongue came to remind him of a closeness he had never experienced before. Gentle and passionate, just how he liked it. His breeches came undone and his legs spread open willingly, welcomingly. The sight of Jaskier parting him open with lust sparkling in his eyes was enough to make him come, and it was painful to hold himself back. Just a little bit longer, he reminded himself. Just a little bit longer and –

“Gods fucking above you’re sogood for me,” Jaskier whined, voice cracking at the word _good._ His cheeks burned red and his mouth gaped. His hands came supporting himself on each side of Dandelion’s waist and with a slow, desperate thrust, sent both of them moaning in unison.

The room’s details melted in the background and soon all what Dandelion could hear and feel and see was Jaskier. The trickling of the sweat down his neck, the fluttering of his eyelashes, the peeking of his tongue while he fucked him slowly, tiredly, at first, then his teeth sank into his bottom lip and his hips grew restless, the slow rhythm soon to be thrown out of the window.

Dandelion clasped his hands against the headboard and braced himself for what was to come. The bed creaked louder underneath and Jaskier above him, with his doublet wide open and his chemise unlaced, exposing a trail of curly hair that glistened under the dim lighting of the room. There was something captivating about his heaving chest, his disheveled state, and his clothed body, something about being _fucked_ by a man who worked you inside out in the _exact_ manner you _loved_ being worked. It was like a dream come true. Something straight out of his deepest, darkest, most desperate fantasies.

Dandelion, moaning and trembling, wanted to believe it was all a coincidence. Because this was _just_ him, and clearly they fucked similarly, nothing to make more out of. But then those thin, long, perfect fingers came curling around his throat, those lusty eyes came gazing down at him from above, that smirk curving at the side of his mouth, condescending and cheeky.

And Dandelion understood he was doing it, all of it, _on purpose._

“Oh, the look on your face, my love.” Jaskier’s breath hitched while he dived into him, “Makes the most skilled of whores pale in comparison, and trust me, Ihave fucked _oh so many._ But never, ever have I felt this absolute thrill, this – _gods_ , this _carnal urge_ to use everything I know makes you writhe and squirm and moan against you. Gods forgive me, I want to fuck you until you can’t walk for days and I know you _love it_ when it aches after.”

A high-pitched cry of pleasure echoed in the room and Dandelion could not believe it came out of him. He wanted to retort, to speak his mind, to tell him that he wanted it, _yes, gods, he did, he wanted it so badly._ But when he opened his mouth all that came out were sultry, hoarse moans that were worthy of the whore he had become.

His cock swelled, the pit of his stomach burned, and a delicious haze had begun slipping into his head under Jaskier’s firm yet careful grip. Those fingers. _Those fingers_. They pressed all the right corners of his neck and Dandelion was gone for the split of a second, _higher_ , _further_ , _somewhere that was beyond._

His orgasm might have as well sent him straight to heaven’s door.

When he came back to himself, the hand around his neck had loosened and Jaskier’s weight was heavy on top of him, all breathy and sweaty and completely and utterly fulfilled. He felt his cock still buried deep inside, stuffing him sensually, the slick of it a sign that he had spilled, too. Dandelion wrapped lazy arms around his body and sighed in pure content.

Few seconds passed by, then Jaskier dared lift up his head. He looked so prettily overdone. A sight Dandelion was never going to forget. Then he grinned like a fool, cheeks flushing in the aftermath, and Dandelion’s stomach fluttered with something that wasn’t there. Something _tender,_ and _real_.

“You look like you’ve been sent to heaven and back,” said Jaskier.

“Would you –“ his voice broke, so he cleared his throat, and tried again, “Would you believe me if I said I _was_? I think I have seen the gods for a split second, shaken their hands, thanked them for whatever magic that brought _you_ in my life, then floated my way back here to wake up _complete_.”

Jaskier laughed heartily at his words and, supporting his weight on his elbows, traced kind fingertips over the curls plastered to his forehead. He dragged a strand behind his ear and as he leaned in to press the softest of kisses on his lips, Dandelion’s heart gave out a wild throb.

“Thrilled to hear my cock could send you places,” he said, grinning. “And what’s that look on your face, darling? Have you been struck by love?”

“You wish,” Dandelion scoffed nervously.

“I _do_ ,” admitted Jaskier, then he let his gaze fall back on his mouth. “Have been for a while, actually.”

Dandelion fell suddenly still.

Oh no.

_Oh no, no, no._

_This wasn’t happening –_

When Jaskier leaned in to taste his lips again, Dandelion realized it was _already_ _too late_.


End file.
